“Tell them stories. They need the truth. You must tell them true stories, and everything will be well, just tell them stories.” -Philip Pullman, The Amber Spyglass
Short version: I have been writing, making movies, telling lies, and otherwise creating stories pretty much since conception. Seriously.
Long version: I was born (two weeks late) in Buffalo, New York during the exciting time in American history known as “The 80s.” It was the decade that gave us such things as the mullet, the moonwalk, and the unfortunately not-well-thought-out hypercolor clothing, among other wonders. I don’t remember much of it, and most of what I think I remember usually ends up being from “The Early 90s.”
I had two older brothers growing up*, which means not only was the one Barbie doll I ever owned used as a hockey puck, but I was the one who suggested using it. Despite the fact that my parents met while in a religious cult, my childhood and family life was pretty normal and uneventful. I mean, in terms of what some other people consider normal. I had a nuclear family and attended public school. But my mother is also a doctor of holistic medicine (which means I haven’t used fluoridated toothpaste since 1995), and my father owns an organic lawn care company (which means when other kids were writing essays on recycling during Outdoor Education Week, I was writing about the horrifying effects of pesticides and herbicides on the environment.)
I spent most of middle school and high school hanging out with my friends in the woods, sneaking into abandoned places, sneaking out of school early, sneaking into our parents liquor cabinets, having sneaky 2 am tea parties in the middle of the road, sneakily convincing our parents to let us dye our hair fun colors, and generally being very sneaky. I did a lot of things I won’t approve of my children doing if I ever become a parent, too, but I turned out pretty all right.
My college experience was pretty weird. I didn’t really want to go to college because I hated school, but I do love to learn. I tried out a distance learning program for two years, but it was awful, so eventually I bit the bullet and transferred to the local university. That meant I never had to dorm, and actually had my own apartment for most of those years. I majored in Anthropology for a while, which was actually really awesome, except that all of the reading was incredibly dry. So, I switched from the interesting but unlikely major of Anthropology, to the even-more-useless major of Media Study, where we watched movies, made sweet videos and animations, and had every Friday off from classes.
I love to travel, and being in school somehow made that cheaper and more likely to happen. When I was 22 I spent a month in Costa Rica doing a little volunteer work but mostly hanging out at a new discoteque in a new city every night, salsa dancing, hanging with capuchins, and eating freshly picked mangos. When I was 23/24 and in my last stretch of college, I spent the spring semester abroad studying in Oxford, England, where I was given to opportunity to also travel to Wales, Scotland, Spain, and Morocco. Spending a night in the Sahara desert (and waking to watch the sun rise over the sand dunes) was one of the greatest things to ever happen to me.
The year I went to England was also the year I met my husband by accident (long story) when I came back home. We got engaged in November after knowing each other for about 6 weeks, flying in the face of all my very-long-term relationships that came before. We got married that August beside the Erie Canal. He passed out at the altar cause it was too hot. I dove to catch him, and it was actually kind of romantic I guess (according to our guests). There was also a boat ride involved. I’m not sure which was the more exciting part.
The next year, this year actually, my first novel The Poppet and the Lune came out (on my 26th birthday). My second novel, The Hierophant, Book I in the Arcana series, is coming out before the end of this year. Lord knows what will happen next.